BIRTH OF A NATION
Be it so known that the bearers of this charter, having delivered the northern reaches of the Greenbelt from the scourge of banditry, having provided detailed maps of the lay of the land, and having done no small amount of work in the exploration of said land and the culling of hostile monsters and indigenous hazards, are hereby granted the right to rule. The nature and laws of rule are theirs to define, and the wellbeing of this new nation is theirs to protect. In accordance for providing a stable nation to the south of central Rostland, let there be a generous stipend of funds, support, and advice provided to this fledgling nation as a token of Restov and Brevoy’s goodwill, such that future relations between kingdoms might be mutually beneficial. So witnessed under the watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and by the authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.
And so was born a nation. When the seven chance companions received their newest charter from Restov, no one was more surprised than the heroes themselves. The new friends and acquaintances they’d made during their adventures seemed to take the news in stride. Even stoic, antisocial Oleg was among the first to congratulate the new rulers.
“So, what’s next?” the gruff trader asked as they sat about his table enjoying a celebratory feast laid on by Svetlana. “Who’s going to be our king?”
“Don’t you mean ‘queen?’” Mox asked coyly. “Or in this case, rather, Baroness?”
“It’s true,” Velox nodded in response to Oleg’s gasp as he choked on his ale. “Mox is used to the Game of Thrones. She hails from Port Ice, you know? Her family is still very prominent there, I understand. If we’re to truly make a go of this, we need someone who can stand with the bureaucrats at their own level.”
“I’m not sure if you’re complimenting me, or insulting me!” Mox laughed.
“Well I for one think it would be quite refreshing to have a woman in charge around these parts!” Svetlana nodded as she bustled about the table. “What roles will the rest of you fill? A ruler can’t rule alone, after all.”
“I’ve given that quite a bit of thought already,” Mox said. “First, I need someone honorable and beyond reproach to handle the defense of our new nation. That’s why I’ve chosen Velox to be the General of our militia.”
“You honor me, my Lady,” the oracle bowed his head.
“Likewise, I need someone equally skilled in dealing with the rougher elements of so-called civilization within the borders of our capital,” she went on. “So Stevhan shall be my Warden, and shall command the city guard as the new Stag Lord!”
“If only my dad could see me now,” the ranger smiled as he shook his head.
“I’m sure he’d be proud,” Svetlana said kindly.
“Tungdill will be my Marshall,” Mox continued. “With his skills and knowledge of the wilds, he will be able to enforce justice in the more rural areas.”
“Bah!” Tungdill grumbled. “Never asked for the job.”
“It is yours, nonetheless,” Mox smiled. “Now, since I’ve appointed a Warden, I’m realistic enough to know that we will inevitably attract a criminal element, as all civilized lands eventually do. Stevhan will be charged with reigning in this faction, but there will, unfortunately, be some who must be made an example of in order to dissuade others from perpetrating such crimes. Accordingly, Davrim shall be my public Enforcer…I loathe the term executioner.”
Svetlana’s face blanched, but Oleg and Kesten Garess nodded their approval. Davrim himself simply inclined his head once, the hard expression on his face answer enough.
“That leaves you, my sister,” Mox turned to Selena. The witch looked dubious. “Don’t worry!” Mox laughed. “I’ll not appoint you ratcatcher! No, no…I need you for greater things! You shall be my Magister, guiding our institutes of higher learning and magic.”
Selena looked stunned, her eyes disbelieving. “I…thank you,” she stammered.
“No, I thank you for your service,” Mox replied. “Now, there are a few other posts that I still need filled. Oleg, you are a man who knows how to procure things, and you have a head for business. I need a man such as you…to be our nation’s Treasurer. Will you accept my offer?”
The trader’s face never changed. “Aye,” he said. “That I will. Never trusted nobody to keep my books ‘cept me. I’ll make sure you’re never short a copper…my Lady.”
“Excellent!” Mox clapped her hands. “As for you,” she turned to Svetlana, and the woman’s face grew even paler. “There can be no rule of law without the voice of the citizenry. You will be that voice, Svetlana. You will be the people’s Councilor. You will let them know that their interests will also be served.”
“I…I’m really not suited to such things,” Svetlana turned away, a flush rising in her cheeks.”
“You illustrate the reason for my choice,” Mox said. “I would not want someone who was self-serving. I ask you this as a personal favor. Our people need you.”
Svetlana said nothing. Oleg reached out and squeezed her hand. After a moment, she nodded silently.
“Speaking of the people,” Mox turned to Jhod Kavken. “They will also need a moral compass…a spiritual leader to help through the lean times, and to teach them gratitude for the bounteous ones. What do you think…High Priest?”
If anything, Jhod’s face grew even paler than Svetlana’s had been. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he said quietly. “I’m…unworthy.”
“None of us are without sin,” Mox said softly. “If you thought yourself so, you would be of no use to me. If atonement is what you seek, let this be your penance.”
Jhod looked at the stag helm that rested on the table next to Stevhan, and then at the holy symbol of Old Dead Eye that hung around the neck of Akiros. “Perhaps I’ve been blind to the signs for too long,” he said. “I accept.”
“That leaves just one more appointment,” Mox announced. “If we are to become a real nation, in time we will need to secure diplomatic ties, and cultivate powerful allies. Kesten Garess, you have lived among the Swordlords, and you too know your way around the Game. I ask you, if only temporarily, will you agree to function as Grand Diplomat?”
“I care not for politics,” the soldier growled. “Politicians do not win wars.”
“Neither does steel alone,” Mox countered. “You, as a warrior, know better than most that the best war is the one you never have to fight. There is more than one type of battlefield, wouldn’t you agree?”
Garess pondered for several long moments. “I suppose I would at that,” he said finally. “It would be…refreshing to actually be a part of something that counts. I’m in.”
“And what shall we be calling this new country of ours?” Oleg asked. “And where’s the capital going to be? Not here, I hope! I still value my privacy, you know?”
“As for the latter,” Mox laughed, “you needn’t worry. We’ve chosen the bandit fort for the site. It’s centrally located, easily defensible, and best of all, we’ll already have a castle! As for your first question…well, I’m going to allow myself a bit of nepotism. I’ve decided to name the kingdom after my family…Kardashia!”
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“You thought I’d forgotten about you, didn’t you?” Mox asked Leaf. The elf had kept silent throughout dinner, and as the celebration broke up, he’d slipped away in silence. Mox had followed.
“I hadn’t actually given it any thought at all,” he snapped.
“So you say,” Mox acknowledged, “but then I have to wonder, if you truly have no interest in what we’re doing here, then why are you here at all?”
Leaf glowered at her. “My reasons are my own.”
“I’m sure,” Mox smiled. “Perhaps I can give you some perspective. I chose Stevhan and Davrim to be the public faces of the system of laws that we hope to put in place, but I’m not a fool. I’m very conscious of the fact that criminals don’t just sit around waiting to be brought to justice. Sure, we may capture a few and make examples of them, but they’ll only be minor players. The true threats to our fledgling nation will stay in the shadows, operating behind the scenes. You strike me as a man used to operating out of the public eye, so I ask to consider becoming my Spymaster. I need someone who can operate with impunity, unsanctioned to infiltrate such organizations. Something tells me that this might be to your taste. Sleep on it. You know where to find me.”
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Several weeks later, on the first day of the month of Gozrah, ground-breaking began on what was to become the capital city of Kardashia…Veritas. Almost immediately, there were problems. The former fortress of the Stag Lord sat on a low hill overlooking the Tuskwater, with but a single road leading up to it. As workers began breaking ground around the fort, they unearthed a slumbering evil. The hill, as it turned out, was an ancient burial ground, and the dead there did not rest easy. Reports reached Mox and her companions that several workers had been killed, and the rest refused to approach the site. Something had to be done.
The sun was setting when the companions arrived at the base of the hill and started up the trail. They had gone no more than a dozen yards when the ground around them erupted. Four mostly-skeletal corpses clawed their way out of the earth and began shambling towards them. Velox stepped in front of Mox and decapitated the first one that got too close. Mox herself dispatched a second one with a pair of scorching rays of fire. Davrim moved towards another, and Tungdill set the last one ablaze with a small tuft of fire he produced in the palm of his hand and tossed like a burning flask of oil. Again and again the earth around the heroes churned, spewing forth the dead…first four more, then eight. The companions fought like the team they’d become, putting their backs to one another as they sent one zombie after another back to their graves. Mox was particularly lethal, alternately burning the undead and blasting them to pieces with arcane bolts. Finally, when only one or two remained, her eyes turned a peculiar shade of gold, the pupils slit like a reptile’s, and her fingernails elongated into claws. She literally tore the last of the zombies apart with her bare hands. In the aftermath, the workers stood wide-eyed, their mouths agape. First one, then another and another began to applaud, until soon the entire crowd was clapping and cheering loudly, chanting over and over, “Baroness! Baroness!”
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In the months that followed, the young kingdom continued to grow. The new keep was completed, and became a beacon for the pioneers that gathered to the banner of the new nation. In addition, a town hall was erected for public meetings. Meanwhile, the lands to the north of Veritas were being cleared in preparation for farming. Eventually, the expansion efforts reached the Sootscale lands, and to the mild surprise of everyone, the kobolds kept their end of the agreement, and allowed the silver to begin being mined from their caves.
In the month of Erastus, Mox was approached by a local merchant named Loy Rezbin and his wife Latricia. He was a ruddy, friendly faced-fellow, and as it turned out, something of an entrepreneur.
“So that’s the gist of it,” he finished his presentation to the Baroness. “We would like to found a village in the Narlmarches, near the Skunk River ford, where my Lady and her vassals slew the tatzlwyrms. The site has become something of a local legend! The draw would be natural.”
Mox pondered the proposal for several moments. If their nation were to thrive, they would need more than one city. Commerce would be essential, and the Narlmarches were a great natural resource for lumber. The proximity of the river would facilitate its transport.
“Your request is granted,” she nodded. “Just be aware that it may take some time before our efforts reach you there, so you will be on your own for awhile.”
“I think you will find we’re quite self-sufficient, my Lady!” Rezbin laughed. “You won’t regret this!”
As the land grab continued spreading north, soon encompassing the small gold mine the companions had stumbled across during their explorations, disturbing rumors began filtering in from the south. Trolls had been sighted with increasing frequency in the southern Narlmarches and Kamelands. The tales that traders brought were horrific and terrifying, but strong leadership and a thriving economy kept the people’s fears to a minimum. How could such faraway tidings be of any concern to them? Life was good! Yet even so, several posters began appearing around the town offering a reward by a local alchemist to anyone who could provide a waterskin full of troll’s blood, which was rumored to be a wonderful catalyst in the creation of healing potions.
Veritas next added a tannery and a town dump, the latter heavily lobbied for by Tungdill, whose local tirades about the filth polluting the natural environment became legendary. Still, with the growing success of the village, even more troubling rumors grew as well. It seemed a green dragon had been spotted in the southern Narlmarches, and a ferocious worg, known as Howl-of-the-North-Wind, was terrorizing local hunters and trappers. It wasn’t long before Mox and company began to feel the itch for adventure again. They announced an excursion to the wild southlands, and the public response was immediate…
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When word spread that the lords of the land were venturing forth, requests began pouring in. An herbalist asked, that if they should come across one during their travels, they bring her back a sample of shamblesap, the blood of a shambling mound. A fisherman named Arven petitioned to have a giant turtle called Crackjaw removed from his favorite fishing hole. A lumberjack called Stas swore that he’d come face-to-face with a mythical hodag, and had even left his spear stuck in the beast. His fellows dismissed his tale as a drunken hallucination, but Stas swore that he’d been stone sober. Lily Teskertin, a young woman of questionable repute but expensive tastes, coyly informed Stevhan that, if he should come across any works of elven craftsmanship, he would earn her undying gratitude…and perhaps more.
“Damn it all!” Tungdill cursed. “If this is what bein’ a leader is all about, you can have it!”
“Heavy is the head that wears a crown,” Mox smiled.
“Bah!” the dwarf scoffed. “Easy fer you t’say! Yer the people’s darlin’!”
“My Lady,” a middle-aged man interrupted. It was the tanner, William. “If I might have a moment of your time?”
“You see!” Tungdill roared.
“Of course Mr. Tanner,” Mox said kindly. “What can we do for you?”
“It’s my boy, ma’am, Tig,” the tanner said. “He’s gone missing. He’s a wild one, to be sure, and he’s got the wanderlust. He’s been away for a day or so before, but he’s always come home. It’s been over three days now, and his ma and me’s awful worried. Could you keep an eye out for him while you’re abroad?”
“We’ll do more than that,” Mox replied. “If he’s out there, you have my word, we’ll find him.”
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A day’s ride out of Veritas found the companions traveling along the northeast shore of the Tuskwater. As it so happened, they came upon a small, hidden trail that led down to an isolated pool…the same pool that Arven the fisherman had told them about.
“Are we seriously goin’ down there t’kill a bleedin’ turtle??” Tungdill asked. “Don’t it have the right to live there? Y’know? Turtles? Water? They kinda go together!”
“Arven’s fish are a top-seller around town,” Velox pointed out. “If his supplies is being threatened, it affects our economy.”
“So we just kill anything that gets in our way?” Tungdill raged.
“Maybe we can catch it and relocate it,” Davrim offered. “It’s a turtle. How big could it be?”
Davrim picked up a piece of drift wood on the shore of the pool and tied a length of rope to the end. He baited it with some of his trail rations and dropped it into the water. It was Tungdill who first saw the ripple disturb the placid surface of the pool.
“I think yer gonna need a bigger pole, boy,” he chuckled.
At that moment, a snapping turtle the size of a pony erupted out of the water and seized the half-orc by the leg.
“Get it off me! Get it off me!” Davrim screamed.
Selena quickly wove a hex in the air, and the turtle’s eyelids drooped. Its grip on the inquisitor’s leg loosened as it sank to the sand, asleep. Davrim snatched out his sword and quickly lopped off its head.
“What in the Hell’s are y’doin’?” Tungdill howled. “What happened t’takin’ it alive??”
“That was before it bit me,” Davrim replied soberly.
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Stevhan’s blood went cold when he heard the distant howl as night fell. The companions were preparing to make camp for the night in a wooded copse, and it had fallen to the ranger to secure the perimeter. The chilling sound immediately took him back to that night on the moors so many months ago. He remembered every night that he woke in a cold sweat during the month that followed, certain that would be the evening that the curse of the werewolf would take him. When the full moon finally rose…nothing happened. Tungdill’s cure had worked, and yet now, hearing those howls again, Stevhan felt the old fear grip him once more.
“One of those howls doesn’t sound like a timber wolf,” Tungdill said. He’d come up next to the ranger quietly, and stood gazing out into the gathering darkness.
“It’s a worg,” Stevhan said. “I don’t think we’re going to have to find Howl-of-the-North Wind after all.”
As the druid and the ranger moved back to their comrades, yellow eyes gleamed at them out of the night.
“What is it?” Velox asked, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than a trio of wolves rushed into the circle of firelight. One lunged for the oracle, biting deeply into his flank. Then, looming up just at the edge of the light, a truly massive shape emerged. The worg was the size of a horse, its yellow teeth the length of a man’s finger. It growled low to the other wolves, and to the companions, it sounded oddly as if words were mixed in with the snarls. The wolves fanned out, coming at the group from all sides. A moment later, the camp fire flared higher as Tungdill literally tore a sphere of flames from it and sent it hurtling at the nearest animal. The wolf yelped as its fur ignited, and when it dashed in blind panic past Davrim, the half-orc shattered its spine with his curved falchion. Velox used the distraction to drive his blade through the chest of his own attacker, and then he began advancing on the worg.
“Come, human!” the great worg snarled. “I will suck the marrow from your bones!”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Davrim growled in return.
The oracle and the inquisitor charged, flanking right and left as they narrowly avoided the worg’s snapping jaws. Striking as one, they both thrust with their blades, sending Howl-of-the-North Wind writhing and cursing to the ground. The worg struggled to rise, but the duo struck again, and this time the beast stayed down. As they turned to see how their companions fared, they saw Tungdill standing over the final wolf, its fur burned to a black char.
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Several miles east of the Tuskwater, the wandering nobles stumbled upon what they at first took to be a small cave opening in a hill side. When Velox thrust a torch inside, however, it became apparent that they’d found some sort of barrow. A low-ceilinged, worked passage gave onto an octagonal chamber, the walls of which were decorated with crude mosaics of simple village life: hunting, fishing and farming. A thick carpet of guano covered the floor…it was crawling with insects, and the sharp tang of ammonia hung in the air. A cobweb-filled tunnel to the east led deeper underground.
As the torchlight illuminated the chamber, Velox became aware that the ceiling seemed to be moving. Only too late did he realize what he was seeing. By that time, the bats were already swarming about them.
“Get out!” he shouted as he beat the air around him with his torch.
“Now why would we go and do a foolish thing like that?” Selena asked.
She spread her fingers and flames spewed forth, setting the room ablaze with flying bodies.
“Aye,” Tungdill agreed as he hurled a bouncing ball of fire into the room, immolating the remaining bats. “You boys figure if ye can’t hit it with yer sword, then it must be invincible!”
The main passage led on to a circular room with three other tunnels exiting it at the cardinal points. Four large monstrous faces, carved from stone, leered and grimaced from each of the walls between the tunnel entrances. A skeleton sprawled face-down in the middle of the room.
“Er…does anyone else smell a trap?” Tungdill asked.
“I’ll look,” Leaf sighed.
The elf crept ahead, bent low to the ground. When he drew near the body, he squatted down and touched his finger tips gently to the pavestones. He sighed deeply again, stood, and returned to his companions.
“It’s a trap,” he said.
“You don’t say!” Tungdill barked.
Leaf ignored him. “There’s something under the skeleton, but if we move it, the trap will be sprung. I can’t see a way to disable the mechanism.”
“Step aside, long ears,” Tungdill muttered.
The dwarf pulled a length of rope and a grapnel from his backpack. He twirled it once and tossed it into the center of the room, where it hooked the bony leg of the body. Then he slowly reeled it in. No sooner was the corpse moved off of the central stones, than the four faces seemed to inhale deeply, and then each exhaled a cloud of black tendrils, all focused at the center of the chamber.
“See?” Tungdill asked as he bent to pluck a silver ring from the skeleton’s finger. “Trap disarmed.”
“Do you hear that?” Stevhan asked.
After a moment, they all did. The sound of footsteps…many of them, shuffling and dragging, along with the clink of armor from the passages to the east and west.
From each of the side passages came a half-dozen shambling, skeletal warriors clad in rusting chainmail and clutching pitted scimitars. From the corridor directly across from the companions emerged something far more sinister. The creature was also obviously undead, but more flesh clung to its bones, and an evil intelligence glimmered in its black eyes. It also wore tattered armor and garments, and though the falchion it clutched was broken, its blade glowed with an eerie blue light.
“Get behind me!” Velox shouted.
The oracle snatched a flask from his belt and quickly quaffed its contents. Instantly, he began to grow until he was full twice his height, sandwiched against the low roof. His mistake cost him valuable moments, and the skeletons surged forward, one of them raking its talon-like claws across Velox’s side. Then the fight began in earnest. Davrim and Stevhan took up positions beside Velox, while Mox and Selena put their backs to one another. The sorceress lobbed arcane bolts, while the witch spewed fans of flame. Between them, they brought down four of the walking dead. Tungdill, meanwhile, dodged away from a rusty blade while he desperately spoke the words to call Adam to him. The giant ant appeared in a flash of light and immediately flung itself on a pair of skeletons, bearing them to the floor beneath its weight before tearing them to shreds with its mandibles.
The lone warrior stalked forward, pushing his way between his skeletal minions. Velox coiled, waiting. He swung, but the lone warrior easily deflected his clumsy blow, and then darted in, thrusting the broken sword blade between the oracle’s ribs. The pain was intense, but worse than that, Velox felt something reach deep inside him and pull out something vital. His knees went momentarily loose.
“Leave them!” Davrim shouted to the others as he batted aside a slashing scimitar. “Velox is in trouble! Focus on the leader!”
Mox cut loose and a barrage of missiles struck the warrior, sending him reeling away from the oracle. Velox had recovered enough to seize the opportunity. He swung his now-gigantic sword in sweeping arc and smashed the warrior’s shield arm to flinders. Tungdill hurled a palm-sized globe of fire into the wight’s face as Adam scuttled forward to sting with his barbed tail. None of these things could stop the apparition. With his remaining arm, he batted Adam aside and lunged at Velox again. Once more the oracle felt the soul-numbing cold that infused the glowing blade.
“Drive him back!” Davrim roared.
Selena conjured a rolling sphere of flame that leaped at the lone warrior. He erupted into a pillar of fire that shattered a moment later under a fusillade of missiles from Mox.
After that, it was just a matter of cleaning up. Davrim led Velox stumbling out of the chamber while the others dealt with the remaining skeletons.
“He’s not in good shape,” Davrim announced as they gathered around Velox, his face drawn and pale. “We’ve got to get him back to Veritas.”
